My thoughts did not remain there long as his hand slipped between my thighs, the other reaching for my breast, and the pleasure took over; I reached down, running my lips over his throat, tugging my teeth across his neck, knowing how different things would be if I could take blood. The gasps became moans as I sat back up, watching in satisfaction as his eyes fluttered shut and my own stomach fluttered in suspense of what I knew was coming as one hand joined the second between my thighs; hearing his groans my jaw locked as I gritted my teeth against a final moan, collapsing onto his chest as a searing pain shot along the lowest part of my throat, stars forming in front of my eyes. I felt myself slump against the hands engulfing my neck, before darkness intruded upon my thoughts.

* * *

It might have been minutes later, maybe hours when I came around. The room was a blur and I could feel the stiffness already forming in my limbs. I let out a shaky breath, hardly daring to smile as I rolled over to find him on his side, watching me and playing with a strand of my hair, twisting it in his fingers.

‘I knew I was good, but no one’s ever passed out on me before,’ he said, smirking, his tongue running across one of his fangs.

‘And in fairness, I don’t think I’ve ever been bitten whilst cl**axing before,’ I retorted, rubbing my forehead, which was thudding as my eyes adjusted to the moonlight. I didn’t have the energy to properly argue that it was more likely the bite which had caused me to black out.

He chuckled, his smirk growing triumphantly. ‘I did tell you I would show you a good time.’

I smiled. Settling onto my back and staring up at the dark ceiling I sunk into the relaxed, almost numb state I had craved all those months back before the London Bloodbath, when the clubs had been my hunting ground.

But nothing … I mean nothing, could compare to Kaspar … and I would never feel it again, considering that in just a few hours the King would return and impose his new rule on touching. My heartstrings tugged, and I felt the tears well. I blinked them back, hoping he was not watching me.

‘She would have liked you.’

I turned to him, confused. He was looking straight ahead, his eyes, a mix between emerald and misty grey, fixed on the painting above the fireplace.

‘They’re your parents, aren’t they?’

He nodded. ‘This was their room, right up until she died.’ On the last word his voice broke and I instinctively took his hand, moulding myself to his chest and nestling up to him, trying to ignore the coolness of his skin. I was stunned though and trying to hide it. I had never heard him mention his mother in this way.

‘She’d be proud of you.’

He turned to me, looking as though he wanted to laugh but his eyes betrayed him. They were grey. ‘Proud of me for what? I’m heir to the throne but I don’t want it, I hate responsibility and I fail miserably at everything a Prince should be, apart from being handsome. What the f**k is there to be proud of?’ His nails dug into my skin, but I don’t think he noticed. I winced quietly, hiding it.

‘You’re a good man. Look at how many times you’ve saved me – what’s it, four times now? And you were prepared to suffer the wrath of the council and your father for letting me go home. It has to say something!’

‘It doesn’t. What’s made you go all saintly forgiving anyway? I’m pretty sure you thought I was a sick, evil creature a while back.’

I averted my gaze away from the painting. ‘Situations change,’ I mumbled.

He glanced at me and I caught his puzzled expression. I thought he might press the matter, but he didn’t to my relief and we lapsed back into silence. He began absent-mindedly fiddling with a strand of my hair again. Neither of us seemed to mind the quiet, both content to be in the other’s arms.

Is that what he really hides behind the mask? A worry that he’s not good enough?

‘Why did your father move out of here? I mean, I know it would have been—’

He interrupted. ‘He was driving himself mad in here. He couldn’t take it. I know you think my father is cold-hearted and cruel, but it wasn’t always so. She completed him. She made him good. That’s possible, you know. You can make bad men good. When she … it ruined us … that night in Trafalgar Square … there was no need for us to even attack them, do you understand that, Girly? But it was his son – Pierre’s son, Claude, that is – and I had to kill him. I had to take him away from his father like his father took my mother. The bastard!’ I closed my eyes to banish the sting of tears, knowing I had more than overstepped the mark, hating myself for bringing it up and making him burst like this; hating him for reminding me of that night. I wrapped my arms right around his chest, hugging him close as he continued.

‘My father as good as died with her that day. And John Pierre just sent us a message saying he was ordered to do it – paid to do it. And we’ll never know who gave him that order. But I’ll find out … I’ll hunt him down, kill his love first, suck his children dry, rape his daughters, make the f**king heartless demon suffer. Because I more than hate him, Violet. He took my mother away.’

He fell into silence then, leaving me with dry lips and loosening arms. I was that daughter.

Rattle, rattle …

I threw up huge barriers around my mind, letting his horrific words sink in. I desperately wanted to tell him not to say such things – to take it all back, because he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t mean it – but I knew pushing the subject was far too risky.

‘None of this matters. You’ll be just as great as your father was before all this, despite what you say. I know you will,’ I whispered into the dark. He did not answer, only pulling my hand up to rest on his chest where his heart should be and I soon slipped into sleep.

FORTY-FIVE

Violet

Tick, tock …

‘They know.’

‘What?’

‘They know we slept together. The servants told them.’

‘But—’

‘My father knows.’

My breath caught, fear rising along with bile in my throat. ‘She betrayed us. Annie betrayed us.’

He nodded gravely, pulling me into his arms.

‘But what will he do?’

‘I don’t know.’

You don’t want to know, my voice added. I silently agreed. His wristwatch glinted in the light from the high windows of the entrance hall where we waited.

11:59 …

The air was cold, the servants and members of the household assembling behind us in a long row, waiting to welcome the Varns and the entire council; every member of which knew. Fabian knew; Cain knew; the King knew. I felt the heated glares of the servants on my back, feeling their hate and disrespect, everything ounce of respect lost. I was one of them now in their eyes. Whore. I was his hostage. I was never meant to know the Prince. Especially not now.

Tick, tock …

‘This Athenea is where they’re coming back from right? S-shouldn’t you let me go?’

He released me from his arms, but kept one hand in mine. ‘Listen, Violet. Girly. I’m sorry about last night. I should never have—’

‘Me too.’ He seemed taken aback, but I nodded furiously, avoiding eye contact. I pulled my hand from his, feeling my heart squeeze painfully.

‘I—’ Suddenly his head shot up, his eyes blazing red, his nose flaring. ‘They’re here.’

He snatched my hand back and lifted my chin with the other, planting a soft kiss on my lips. He let me down and I felt my knees go weak I was so sore and stiff. And then I was stood on the other side of the room, breathless, wind knocked from my lungs, tossed away by Kaspar.

Tick, tock … Deep from within the mansion a great boom sounded; the first strike of a great clock and I counted each one, unable to block out the sound.

Twelve … I shuddered as the sound passed through me, my stomach churning with nerves. I wanted to cry but refused to in front of the servants.

Eleven …

The butlers stood beside the doors, immaculately clean gloves poised on the handles, ready to swing them open.

Ten … The dread and the horror was rising as my mind raced, reeling at what the King could possibly do to punish such disobedience; things never would have turned out well if we had slept together under different circumstances, but now on the eve of such anger, when Kaspar had already thrown so much shame upon his father, I didn’t dismiss anything.

Nine …

What can he do to me that will be worse than not allowing the two of us to touch?

Eight …

He can’t force me to become a vampire without giving my father an excuse to call upon the slayers and rogues. Turning doesn’t seem so horrific now anyway.

Seven …

Why did I waste all that time hating him?

Six, five, four …

‘Kaspar, what’s Athenea?’

Three …

He didn’t answer.

Two …

‘Kaspar, what lives in Athenea?’

One.

The doors were flung wide open, the high noon sun masked by towering clouds. A group of thirty or so cloaked figures strode up the steps, flinging their hoods back and almost instantly becoming pink under the daylight, skin burning.

Furious at their head was the King, and I glanced at Kaspar, fear holding a vice-like grip on my heart. He stared straight ahead, passed the gathering crowd, all glaring at the both of us, his expression fixed and detached.

I felt a tear trickle down my cheek and turned back. The figures were gone. My eyes searched the room but I was cut off as the King came towards me, his eyes afire and raging. I let out a meek whimper as he came to a halt. I wanted to run. Instead, I curtsied.

His head turned towards Kaspar, eyes still fixed straight ahead but cringing now.

‘Kaspar!’ He did not speak the words. He hissed them. ‘Go to Varns’ Point. I will talk to you there.’

Then he turned to me.

‘Do not touch my son again, Miss Lee, or I will ensure you never hear your heart beat again. Is that clear?’

When I did not respond he shouted, ‘Answer me!’

I nodded, choking, holding back tears.

‘You are not stupid. You realized that you were to never become involved with any of my children.’ His mouth set in a firm line. ‘This is the end of your freedom, Miss Lee. The end. And as a symbol of the end, I think we’ve found the perfect sacrifice at Ad Infinitum. Don’t you think?’

Kaspar hissed and I raised my head. He immediately fell silent and steadily held my gaze with an intensity that took my breath away. And then he was gone. Yet again.

‘Slut,’ a voice hissed.

Lyla, hand in hand with Fabian stood in front of me, smug smile dirtying her face. She clung onto him – he refused to look at me but as she tugged him on I heard him mutter one word.

‘Bitch.’

They all hated me now.

FORTY-SIX

Violet

I mentally kicked myself as I realized I was thinking about that day again, the events replaying themselves endlessly in my mind. I could still feel the bitter breeze around my ankles and the soreness around my legs, every word analysed; every thought churned over and every detail remembered.

It was almost two weeks ago, let it go, my voice advised and I was inclined to agree. Yet however much I wanted to, I couldn’t.

Kaspar has been gone for two weeks. You try letting go.

My hands gripped the sheets of my bed again and I stared at the ceiling, reciting words that had become engraved on my mind.

‘Vampires were not gentle, loving creatures. It was not in their nature to change, or to adapt, to accept others. Their love is not what humans would call love, and lust consumes them on a level we will never understand. They do not grow old as we do, but age as stone does: they gradually weather, slowly perish, so slowly it is unnoticeable. But in the end, stone is a fixture forever, as are they.’

Kaspar had become a fixture in my heart. I thought the King could not punish us any more than not allowing us to touch. But he had.

October had given way to November, the trees in the grounds bare now. But the forest was as dark as ever and tomorrow came the promise of yet more torture: tomorrow was the twelfth, and the twelfth meant it was Ad Infinitum.

I was the sacrifice. I had learned the steps and the dress had been measured and made. I had met John, the other sacrifice. He was a quiet guy, turning at Christmas to be with his love, Marie-Claire. That was the strange thing about sacrifice. It could be done for love – or for hate.

I played along at being the sacrifice, learning my part like a nice little human, but for one reason only: it was the only way I would be allowed to go to the ball, and Kaspar would have to return to attend. Return from wherever he is.

Wiping my dry eyes I swung my legs over the side of the bed, dragging the corner of the sheet with me. I grabbed a comb off the bedside table and ran it through my hair, ragged and knotted from almost endless days spent in this room, avoiding the rest of the house. That seemed to suit them just fine; nobody ever talked to me, save for Cain, who had lately picked up an annoying habit of asking about my family – particularly Lily. Always Lily. I couldn’t take that.

So it was just me and my voice.

For a moment I wondered whether it was really worth going downstairs, but I was hungry and could hear loud talking. Pulling on a pair of socks from the wardrobe I quietly slipped out, creeping down the corridor. Just a few feet beyond my room I swallowed hard. Kaspar’s door.

I had not gone near or in that room since that night. It was only two weeks, yet I was curious – I felt as though something must have changed inside, as though the room could not remain the same without its master.

A stupid thought, but I was having them with increasing vigour.